


The Monk and The Spaniard

by Swan_Secrets



Category: Princess Bride (1987), The Princess Bride - William Goldman
Genre: Comment Fic, Community: comment_fic, Gen, Origin Story, Revenge, Training
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-13
Updated: 2014-02-13
Packaged: 2018-01-12 06:42:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1183090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Swan_Secrets/pseuds/Swan_Secrets
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the Comment_Fic prompt: Any, any, "Obsessed with revenge"</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Monk and The Spaniard

**Author's Note:**

  * For [amai_kaminari](https://archiveofourown.org/users/amai_kaminari/gifts).



The Monk opened his eyes. 

The knock came again. 

The Monk had gone a long time without hearing anyone knock at his door. He had almost forgotten what to do. 

Knock. Knock. Knock. 

Whoever it was certainly persistent.

The monk stood from his meditation mat in front of the fire place and went to the door. The Monk was a man in his late fifties. He had long silver hair tied back in a pony tail. He wore a simple brown robe tied with rope at the waist. 

The knocking came again before he reached the door. He moved without urgency. There was no necessity for rushing around. He opened pulled open the door. It was mid-afternoon. The man standing on his doorstep was a young man, perhaps twenty. He was wearing a sword at his waist and an eager expression on his face. 

"Yes?" the Monk said. 

"Are you the great swordsman Aeolis? Are you the man who once fought ten master swordsmen with one hand tied behind your back? Are you the man who defeated Argar the Terrible? Are you he who is the only man to have ever challenged the Scarlet Warriors of La'Zar?" The young man spoke with a Spanish accent. 

The Monk did not answer right away. Instead his eye fell upon the sword his visitor was armed with. It looked to be a very good blade. Finally he looked his visitor in the eyes and said, "I have renounced that name long ago. I vowed never to wield a sword in anger again. I am not the man you seek." 

"I think you are," the Spaniard replied. "I think you are," he said again. "I do not wish to waste your time Señor so I will explain my business quickly." 

The Monk nodded. "Go on." 

"My name, is Inigo Montoya. Ten years ago my father Domingo Montoya was murdered by a man with six fingers on his right hand. I seek to learn the skills so that I might find this man and serve justice upon him." 

The Monk considered the Spaniard. "And what will you do if you were ever to find this man with six fingers on his right hand, who you say murdered your father?"

"He did murder my father sir, I watched him do it. He killed him in cold blood before my eyes," Inigo spoke softly. It was not a pleasant memory for the young man to revisit. It was one he revisited often however. "I do not know what I will say to this man when I find him but I know that find him I must and I must make him pay for his crime." 

The Monk said nothing. He looked at Inigo. The young man could not read the man who used to be the great swordsman Aeolis. "Why have you come to me?" 

"I have travelled long and far, and I have sought the teachings of the most skilled fencers in the world. I have been schooled by the Pirate Ricardo, Philip of France and the noble Pugsley of the Southern Isle." 

"Fine swordsmen," the Monk nodded. "Very fine."

"I have come to seek further instruction from you, if you would be willing to teach me." 

The Monk nodded slowly. "I can see you are a determined young man Inigo. Any who have studied with Philip of France must surely be very determined indeed." 

"I am sir. I am." 

"I have vowed never to raise a sword in anger again Inigo. And I shall not," the Monk said. "But I shall share with you what I know, I will help you." 

Inigo smiled.

 

A year later the Monk who had once been known as Aeolis declared that he had imparted all the knowledge he could and that Inigo was his equal with a blade. 

Inigo had worked hard. Obsessively. He had toiled to practice, practice, practice. Every waking hour of every day he lived and breathed nothing but developing his sword play. 

When the day came for Inigo to set off he shook the Monk's hand. "Thank you." 

"You are welcome Inigo," the Monk said proudly. "Before you go there is one thing." 

"Yes?" 

"Have you given any more thought to what you will say when you meet the man who murdered your father?" 

"I have. I have," Inigo said. 

"Have you made any decisions?" 

"I have." Inigo stood straight and looked his teacher in the eye. "I will go up to the six-fingered man and I will say..." He hesitated. He had thought long and hard over these words and he had never spoken them aloud. He had committed himself, his entire life if required, to finding this man and avenging his father. They would be the most important words that would ever come from his lips. "I will say, Hello. My name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father. Prepare to die." 

The Monk nodded. "I wish you good luck." 

Inigo smiled. "I have no need of good luck. I have what you have taught me." 

For the last time Inigo left the Monk's house. The Monk watched him go and hoped that he found the closure he was looking for. He understood the young man's obsessions because a similar obsession had driven him in his youth. He had found his mother's killer and he had been the last man that he had killed and would ever kill. He had found the man and told him, "My name is Aeolis. You killed my mother. Prepare to die." 

And die the man did.


End file.
